


Moments

by QrowBlaq



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Comedy, Horror, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QrowBlaq/pseuds/QrowBlaq
Summary: A collection of moments, scatered in time throught out multiple universes.
Relationships: Albert Wesker/Alex Wesker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Warmth 

(Project W universe)

It was something William did for him. They had just met and started working together. Albert has fallen asleep in his chair. Waking up to find a blanket covering him. It became an unspoken thing between the two. A gesture of kindness between friends. Like making coffee for both. He didn’t do it for anyone else. Not unless they did it for him first. And so far Will was the only one.   
It was strange, how such a simple thing could mean so much. He never thought about it at the time. But then many years later waking up cold in his Tricell office her realized it. It was more than just a blanket. It was the warmth. The care. Will had cared about him. In his own way he had cared out Will too. They were dumb, intelligent yes, but still dumb teenagers with massive egos who believed they could get away with anything. They had power, ambition, and all they could ever want in resources. William was younger than him, only sixteen. And yet sometimes he seemed to be more mature. He shoved aspects that Albert had never considered before. Care was one of them.   
And then he met Annette. He had to admit he was a little jealous. Not because Annette was some extreme beauty, no she was rather plain looking. He could have any woman he wanted but he would never marry any of them. He called William a fool. That I would not last long. Sleeping with the same woman every night when there so many better looking ones? But as he observed them it became clear that this not about sex. Well it was to some extent. He couldn’t could the times when two snuck off or he had caught them. But the way they acted around each other, the look in their eyes. The care they had for each other. He couldn’t understand it but at the same time he wanted it. He was jealous.   
It was when he met her that he began to understand. She drew him in. He wanted to understand why. He wondered if it was pity. She was so frail looking, quiet, a mystery. He saw Spencer abuse her. Wondered if it was pity he was feeling. But when they danced at the party she didn’t seem weak or someone that needed to be pitied. Sad, perhaps. Reading away from everyone, showing that she needed nothing from them. She was above their status and socializations and empty gossip. To him she seemed daring. Rejecting the norms. Doing what she pleased and not what they expected of her. He liked it.   
While their conversations were in passing and about work he always looked forward to seeing her. It took him a while to notice it. But was then, when he saw her asleep in the lounge that he really questioned himself. He placed a blanked over her. Something he only did for Will. He questioned his own actions, unable to find an answer. What did she mean to him? She was still a mystery. Yet her presence always felt warm. Much like Will did but also different. He wanted to know her that much was true. And he did want her. She was good looking. But it was not her body that drew him to her. He only noticed it later.   
Watching her place the piece of chocolate in her mouth, licking it of her fingers, while completely unaware, lost in her reading. He could see the chocolate press against her cheek as she rolled it her mouth and it made him think of something else. How hot her mouth would feel. How she would taste like chocolate is he kissed her. Then he sees her tongue slowly move along her finger. And he wonders how it would feel somewhere else. The feeling of her body against his from the dance they shared. She looks at him innocently. Under the table he is rock hard.   
It was different. Nothing like before. He would seek out a woman when he felt the need rising inside him. Just a tool to help him get some relief. Never felt it this intensely before. She wasn’t some scantily dressed hooker, not a model in one of those erotic magazines, not some random woman who happened to look good. She was showing almost no skin, aside from her hands and neck. Short hair, almost boyish looking, aside from the make up on her face. No trace of breasts visible under the somewhat loose clothing. Not something he would go for. Long hair and large breast. Yet somehow she managed to get him this exited without even trying to. He excused himself, using the clip board to cover it up. Thankful there were no other people here. Locking himself in the stall, still thinking about her. Stroking himself to completion. 

He wonders why she has this effect on him. Even if he wants her, he will not act on it. Not under the watchful eyes of Umbrella, of Spencer. She is his ward. Normally he would do it, just because he can. Because she is off limits. If she was anyone else he would push her against the wall in a dark hallway. But he can’t. Not with her. And he realizes he wants her to return it. He wants her to want him. It terrifies him. This new feeling he has. A feeling he cannot describe. And then he wakes up with a blanket over him. She is sitting there reading. This strange warmth, knowing she would do it for him. That she returns it. That warmth in her smile when she hands him his coffee. He felt this way with Will, but not like this. Not this strong. And he never wanted to sleep with Will. It becomes an unspoken thing between the two of them, like once did with William.   
Its years later that he finally gets his wish. And as much as he hates the man, he wants to thank Fabron for not showing up. And it’s the most amazing feeling, when he sees her so eager for him. And that warmth he felt seems to grow, expand. He wonders if it will gone now that he had her. The thought almost makes him feel sad. How did it feel before this? He can’t remember. Doesn’t want to.   
When he wakes in the morning he wonders if it’s all over. He finally got what he wanted. Looking at her asleep next to him, he feels that warmth in his chest. Recalling the passion they shared last night, he wants to repeat all again. To have her every night. Only her. He lets her sleep. She looks so peaceful like an angel, compared to the lustful demon from the night before. He waits for her, unsure of what would happen next. She come from room. He hands her a cup of coffee. There, in her eyes he can see it, feel it radiate. The same warmth.


	2. Days to Die

The sun is scorching. Vultures fly in the distance. What is left of them, anyway. Bones, skeletons of birds with barely enough flesh and feathers to keep them in the air. Alex falls down, something grabbing her leg. A crawler. She was too focused on the birds, forgot to look. Her gun falls. She tries to reach, shoot. The clip is empty. The vultures star moving towards her. The crawler pulls at her, tries to bite. She is too tires, overwhelmed. Perhaps this is then end.  
It didn’t stop at Raccoon. The city was bombed too late. The virus got out, spread. Covered the world. Those who received a vaccine would survive. In shelters, in basements, hiding away. It seemed like the world would go back to normal. But the virus began to mutate. Some countries have decided to resort to nuclear strikes to eliminate the larges concentration of the undead. Regardless if there were any survivors in the area. Communications went down. Many survivors died. But the hordes of undead remained, some developing into radioactive mutants.   
She thought she was safe in the Umbrella shelter. The scientists have made a vaccine to prevent people in the shelter from turning but it would not stop them from dying to the undead. Communications cut off. Hoards on the roads. Resources limited. No way to get the vaccine to others. No way to know who was alive and where. Life went on. A small group of them hiding. Unaware of the outside world events. And then the night came. There was a strange moon that night. Blood red. A storm without clouds. Lightning out of the blue. Sky turning red. It was said once that when hell is full the dead shall walk the earth. And the blood red sky was nothing short of apocalyptic, hell like. The hoard was massive, hundreds of dark shapes moving under the light of the blood moon that seemed to make the entire sky glow red. They broke the concrete walls of the shelter. It was like hell. They managed to escape in car. Not all. The hoard divided. Some attacking those that remained in the shelter, others running after them. Yes, they were running, with the speed of the devil, nearly catching up to the car. A bloated police officer with a greenish glow exploded in front of the car. They capsized. Rolling down the cliff. That was days ago.   
She awoke a good distance from the crashed car. The car had exploded, its charred remains far to her left. It was day now. The hoard was gone, vanished as suddenly at it appeared. She had never seen a moon like this, never seen the moon effect the undead. This was new, strange. It was as if they could somehow sense the people thought the thick walls of the shelter. But there was no time to wonder. Finding a gun on the ground she moved. Not sure where. The roads were dangerous but so was the wilderness. She found a house, walls broken, damaged. Not much useful. Some water and food. Not enough for a long time. it only lasted her a day. The heat was exhausting, the cold at night was worse. But at night is then the creatures seemed to come alive. During the day they wondered as is asleep, sleeping, standing still or slowly walking. A night they ran and they were fast. This happened of the night of the red moon. Things changed.  
There weren’t many of them in the desert. She could avoid them. There weren’t many places to hide. She lasted three days now it seemed like it was the end. She hits the crawler in the head with her gun. Tries to get up but the birds are already swarming her. Skeletal beaks and claws tearing at her clothes. Somebody shoots. One bird drops. Somebody grabs her arm. Pulls her away. Another shot. She is covering her face from the talons. Doesn’t see who it is. They shoot the pursuing birds. She finally looks up. Eyes wide in disbelief.   
He smiles at her. Sun reflecting in the dark glasses. He is wearing the S.T.A.R.S. uniform. She thought him long dead. The virus reached the city so fast they didn’t have time to react, to get him out. The team never made it to mansion. They were still in the city when the first people began turning.   
“You’re alive.” She says in disbelief.   
“So are you.” He says, surprised.   
The road is not far, there is a car. People inside are waiting. Armed. Same uniforms as his.   
“Captain” the brown haired young man looks up at him.   
“We have a survivor.” He says.   
Alex gives an uncertain smile.   
“Get in the car. “ Says a blond man behind the wheel.   
She sits next to a young woman with a red west and an older man in a S.T.A.R.S combat vest.   
There is a turret attached the roof of the jeep. He gets on. A small hoard as already moving closer to them. Four from behind another six from the sides. They pull away fast. Leave them behind. They leave the desert soon after. Sand gives way to grass. Some trees. They turns. Go into a small town. Up a hill into some type factory. It’s reinforced. Barbed vires, spikes, metal gate covered in scrap metal. Somebody opens the gate from inside. It’s not a large area. Packed with some cars, and trailers. There are people walking around, military wests, and guns. A young woman with short brown hair comes running, first aid kit in her hand.   
“Is anyone hurt?”   
Albert gives her a questioning look. She shakes her head.   
“I’m fine”   
The woman looks at her.   
“You found another one?” she says happy.   
Another woman comes. She is also wearing S.T.A.R.S uniform.   
“Welcome back.” She says. “You found a survivor. And what about…”  
“Nothing.” The brown haired man says.   
“It’s like the vanished into thin air.” Albert says.   
“But a hoard of the size?” the woman is in disbelief.   
Alex realizes why they were out there.   
“I don’t suppose you would know of it?” He asks.   
Alex closes her eyes, remembers.   
“I know.” She says.   
They take her inside the large building. The machines of the factory mostly gone. The large empty space turned unto a sleeping area with sleeping bag on the floor and tables to eat. The metal stairs lead up into t a smaller room. Papers, maps, newspaper articles, on the table, the walls.   
She is introduced to then now, these people he is working with. Tells them about the strange moon, the hoard and how she escaped. They all look horrified.   
“Will it happen again?” Claire asks.   
“Things changed after that night.” Alex says. “You noticed it, haven’t you?”   
“yes.” He answers.   
“This not the virus anymore” she says. “it can’t change the moon.”   
They all agree.   
“This is something else.” Chris says. “But can we do anything against a hoard of that size? “   
“We need to prepare.” Alber says. “Reinforce the walls, weapons, ammunition, barricades. Traps around the area. Anything that could reduce their numbers before they reach us. “   
“But we have no way to know then it will happen next” Jill says” can we make in time?”   
“If we do nothing we will perish.” Barry says firmly.” The captain is right. We should set up traps in the town, might take out a bunch of them before they reach us. “   
The others seem to be in agreement.   
“We need every resource that is available.” He says” wood, metal, anything we can use. Keep a small group posted here just in case. Everyone else needs to go and gather supplies. Take the entire town apart if you have to.”   
“Yes, captain.” The all say in unison.   
They work in small teams of two or three. She goes with the Redfield girl. Rides on her motorcycle to some remote area. A gas station and a few houses far apart from each other. Getting out the remaining gas and taking anything useful that is still left. Some of the houses look like they were once reinforced. People had been trying to survive. Now the doors are torn down. Several sleepers inside. They begin to rise. Alex shoots one, its head exploding. The new gun isn’t bad. at the end of the day they head back, before dark, before the zombies start running and become stronger. She isn’t sure why this happened. Why things changed. The virus was not the only thing causing this. She was certain. But for now they needed to survive. Any day now the blood moon could rise again and the massive hoard of undead could wipe them all out.   
It’s night and she hears the groans of the dead. It was empty during the day but now they seem to gather around the factory, trying to get in. Not that many but still dangerous to leave unchecked. Gun shots echo. She buries her face in his chest. The small trailer he is staying in provides some comfort. The bed isn’t that large but it’s not the cold hard ground. He plants a kiss on the top of her head. She looks up. Kisses him. Undoes his shirt, spreads her hands across his chest. She is tired, she should sleep -more work to do tomorrow. But tomorrow is still hour’s way. Tomorrow they could all be dead. Now is all they have, all that really matters. So she kisses him with passion. He returns it. And nothing matters anymore. For a moment they stop counting the days to die and once more count the days to live.


	3. A Game

They wake up in a cell. It’s dark and damp. The smell of rust and blood in the air. The sound of footsteps- something approaches. Moira looks to Claire in fear. They freeze. Wait. The sound fades. Whatever it was had gone a different way.   
“We should get out of here.” Moira says.   
“Good idea.” Claire says. “How’s that door looking?”   
The door looks old, metallic, rusted.   
“Can I knock It down with a kick?” Moira wonders.   
“Give it a shot.”   
She does. The door won’t budge. But a piece breaks of.   
“We can use that to prie it off the hinges.” Claire says.   
“Good thinking,”   
They try, together. The door gives way, breaks and fall to the ground with a loud bang that echoes trough the dungeon.   
“Maybe that wasn’t a good idea” Claire says.   
A loud voice seems to manifest out of thin air. A woman laughing.   
“You are welcome to try and escape this maze, like so many before you. Although your deaths is inevitable do try to make it entertaining.”   
“Who’s talking to us?” Moira jumps, looks around at the walls.   
“Who are you?” Claire wonders.   
“I am the Overseer.” Comes the reply.   
The footsteps return, coming closer and closer. The two exchange looks.   
“We have no weapons, we can’t fight.” Claire says. “ We need to run.”   
They look around for a way out, but they are trapped. Behind them is a dead end. in front an approaching enemy. To their sides are cells. Theirs with a broken door and two others. Claire tries to get inside but the door is locked. Moira goes for the other. She pulls. The door shoots open. She gets inside. Claire rushes after her. Bumps into something she can’t see. 

“Ouch” Says somebody  
A black clothed person with a black cape comes into view.   
“Who are you?” Moira wonders.   
“SHH” she points for them to get down.   
They all drop flat on the ground in the far back of the cell. Something big walks down the hall. Inspects the cell that is broken out off. A flaming torch in its hand. It gives off the stench of rotting flesh, it’s head drowns in the shadows of the tall ceiling. The creature looks around the other cells, then slowly leaves.   
“Thanks for ruining my plan you two,” The girl in black says.   
“What plan?” Claire asks.   
“I was trying to lock pick the door and sneak out of here but you two alerted whatever that was.”   
“Sorry. We didn’t know anyone else was here.” Claire says.   
“Good luck getting out now.” She says.   
“You’re not coming with us?” Moira is surprised.   
“Not with that thing out there.”   
“It seems to be gone now.” Claire says.   
She opens the cell door steps out. Listens. It’s quiet. Moira follows. The girl in black whose name is Lucy reluctantly follows along. They leave the holding area and climb up some stairs to a large hall way. There are more cells there but the area is much larger and misty. Chains and hooks hang from the ceiling. In the distance there is a flickering light. Lucy blends into the darkness, tries to sneak. Stumbles and hits a chain. It rattles. They stop. Listen. All seems quiet. They keep moving.   
Suddenly a moan comes from one of the cells. A zombie is inside. It moans louder. Reaches out its arms and tries to walk towards them bangs against the bars.   
“This is bad.” Lucy whispers.   
“We need to kill it.” Claire says.   
“How? No weapons”   
“run” Lucy says.   
They start to move away as fast as they can. Looking around. More zombies begin to stir in their cells. Moaning and banging against the bars. It almost sounds like a beat. Lucy looks around. Spots a desk against the wall. With a bag under it. Goes to search it. Find a couple of daggers. A gun- tosses it to Claire, a large axe falls clinging to the floor. Moira picks it up.   
“You didn’t think it would be that easy?” the familiar voice manifests once again.   
“Crap.” Moira curses.   
All the cells suddenly open. The zombies inside are now free. A giant metal grate slides down and blocks the closest exit.   
“Shit” Claire curses.   
Moira grips the axe with both hands.   
“Here goes nothing.”   
She rushes the nearest zombie. Severs it’s arm.   
“Moira wait!” Claire calls out but her friend can’t hear her.” We don’t need to take out all of them, just clear a path to the other side.”   
She takes a shot at the zombie in front of her. The shot only causes it to stumble. Tries to blend into the shadows and sneak away.   
“Hiding is pointless. They can smell your fear.” The voice echoes.   
Several zombies move towards Lucy. She grips her daggers and attacks. One falls down. The others still approach.   
Moira swings her axe at the zombie, cuts off its head. Doesn’t notice the others that are beginning to surround her. Claire shoots again. This time the zombie falls down. Lucy runs from the surrounding zombies, cuts the one in front. This goes on for a time. Claire is running low an ammo. Lucy has made it the farthest, nearly half way across the hall. Claire is trying to get to Moira, shooting the zombies that surround her. Many are dead but many are still approaching.   
“You’re taking too long. “ The voice manifests “let’s speed things up.”   
Giant pendulums with blades descend down and start swinging.   
“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.” Moira snaps out of her rage.   
“Wait!” We can use these” Lucy yells.   
They run. Wait for the blades to be on one side and move on the other. The zombies are getting sliced. No intelligence only mad hunger. Each blade moves with a different pattern and speed to it. While the zombies have fallen behind, those that were in front of them got sliced, with only a few remaining. There is a gap with no blades In the middle of the room.   
“I don’t like this “Lucy says. “ Let me check for traps.”   
She looks at the stones in the floor. Doesn’t notice anything.   
Moira gets stuck on a chain, pulls it to break free. The sound of something turning and moving can be heard. The ground parts revealing a pit full of spikes.   
“This is bullshit!” Claire exclaims jumping back from the pit only to get cut by the blade.   
“I’m gonna fall.” Moira says hanging over the pit.   
“Crap. Think.” Lucy looks around. “Maybe another chain somewhere?”   
She stars puling random chains. Darts shoot from the walls, Claire is hit in the leg. Moira who was about to swing herself to safety is knocked down into the pit. Lucy is injured.   
“Hey guys!” Moira shouts from the bottom.” There’s no spikes here!”   
“What?”   
Moira stands among the spikes, they are going thought her but not harming her.   
“An illusion?” Claire says uncertain.   
“We need to get her out of there.”   
“How?”   
“Maybe we can use one of the chains to…”   
“No. No more pulling any chains.” Claire says   
“Guys?!” Moira shouts.   
The walls of the pit begin closing in.   
The two manage to pull Moira out and get across the remaining traps in the room.   
“Impressive. “ Says the voice, appearing out of every direction.” That you managed to make it this far. But you will never escape. “   
“We’ll see about that!” Moira yells out.   
The room they are in is connected to a few other rooms. One is some kind of storage chamber. Claire finds her missing bag of ammunition. Another bag full of round bottles with red liquid. A rapier left abandoned in the corner. Claire picks it up.   
“This might be useful. I need to conserve my ammo.”   
Lucy looks around but finds nothing useful. Instead steps on a mouse trap. 

“Shit. Damn dice really hate me tonight.” She curses glaring at the number 1 on the dice.   
“I have a spare set you can borrow.” Moira offers.   
Hands her the dice across the table.   
Behind the screen Alex is smirking. If they only knew whatshe had planned for them around the corner.


	4. Familly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I noticed how there is no information about who Dr. Wesker of the Wesker Project is. So I decided to create my own version of it. The name Williams is one i made up. Capcom wouldn't even give a name.

Family

He never had any children, never married. Some found it odd but never truly questioned it. Most would assume that was because he planned to live forever. While they were not entirely wrong. But that doesn’t mean they were right.  
It had been a long time ago. Before he was a lord, back when he was still just a young man. Spencer had attended university along with many other nobles. He had dedicated himself to his studies and upholding the family honor. He met Ashford and Markus. Was among the best to ever graduate. But there was one other person he happened to cross path with. A fellow student by the name of William Wesker.  
Since the moment he saw the man Spencer felt drawn to him. He was handsome, blond hair, blue eyes, tall and slim. Just an ordinary student who worked his way into a prestige university. Not a noble like them. But it didn’t stop Spencer from taking interest.  
He had been a stern believer in the values of old. And yet that one meeting made him doubt everything her knew. Nobody ever spoke of it. Yet he knew it existed. Most often in ancient Greece, an old historical fact that often called perverse, immoral, cause of the downfall of the civilization. “Love” between two men. He had agreed with the view once. And he might have continued to agree it weren’t for the aching desire he felt, unable to sleep, tossing and turning in the bed of his dorm room. The image of that young man he saw still burning in his mind.  
At first it had caused him to feel embarrassed. But then he began to notice the young man attend most of the same classes he was. His eyes would wander over to him. He had learned his name was William. They ended up working a project for a class together. Talking to him made Spencer realize he had not only good looks but intelligence as well. He carried himself in a way that an aristocrat would despite not being one. He had actually enjoyed his company more than that of Ashford or Markus.  
He began telling of his own ideas. The world was not fair, most people were incompetent, and humanity had stopped evolving and began degrading, the world would run out of resources in next two centuries- all wasted on greed and arrogance. He wished he could change the world, change the people. Bring about the golden age from Greek myths. A return to Eden, but one made by human. Wesker listened to him. Confessed that deep down he felt the same way about a lot of things. He was looked down upon by some of the professors, who were noble, for not being born wealthy. Spencer thought it to be shameful. Money, status, they don’t make one powerful. Power makes one powerful. And knowledge is power. Wesker had knowledge, he also had talent and dedication to his work.  
Though the years he kept in touch. It would much later that he would dare to confess how he really felt. Still as attracted to the man as he was then. Something that would have caused a scandal if it got out. Mostly because William was someone of low standing. To his surprise Wesker did not end their friendship then. Spencer had feared he would lose his best friend. Although a secret one, his other friends would not be accepting of him, too rigid in their old ways.  
It had been William, to his great surprise, who suggested they become lovers. But it didn’t last long. William was called to serve in the war. And Spencer feared he would never see him again. Suggesting to use his money and influence to keep him out of it. But William refused. He would not take money from him, he would not use his lover for personal gain.  
Spencer had been in the first year of his doctorate studies when the war ended. He would check the papers to see the names of the dead. Almost certain that he would see his name somewhere one day. And even if he didn’t, William could have died somewhere and ever been found, or captured, left behind. His family had retreated for a time, into a safer area where they had land and a shelter. It had placed his studies on hold. While the rest of Britain was being bombed they sat there in comfort.  
He saw the ruins, returning home. Going back to university. Read the news. The pictures of piles of bodies. War was ugly, monstrous. Something he did not approve of. But he did find it interesting. Specifically the ideas of one Adolf Hitler. A superior human race that was entitle to ruling the world. To many uneducated mind it sounded like the ravings of a mad man. But Spencer sought to prove it scientifically.  
The discovery of the flowers in Africa. Ancient civilizations that used be ruled by powerful figures- believed to be descended from the gods. He knew there was something that gave those people the qualities. And he believed he had his answer- a virus so old it predated humanity. There were those who were compatible with it. A rare percentage of humans that were in fact genetically superior to others because of some ancient lineage they didn’t even know about. With the virus he could reawaken it.  
William did eventually return to Britain. He sought out Spencer, uncertain if he would even want to see him. William had lost his family in the bombings. The injuries he suffered in the war had not fully healed. Spencer welcomed him to his own private castle. And while he recovered told him about his new discoveries. War had changed him. Not just the scars from battle or the muscle. It was the coldness on his face. Eyes that have seen true horror. He began to show more interest in Spencer’s work, experimenting with the virus. Later, much later he would confess the truth.  
Captured, tortured, he broke. He told them he was a scientist that he could help and work for them. He had been put to work in a Concentration camp in Auschwitz. Making new gasses and testing them on the prisoners, working for the Nazis to avoid being killed. He had killed hundreds with chemicals, gas. Even children. When the army came he did not resist capture. Told them had had been forced to these acts under constant threat of torture and death. He had been imprisoned but set free later. 

Spencer couldn’t care less, the man had returned alive. And so they began to work on a way to make his plan reality. Wesker’s idea was both shocking and brilliant. It was something he had picked up from the Nazis. They would need children. Those who were superior either physically in intellectually, preferably both. Train them, bring them with a specific mind set and ideas. Wesker had noticed how many of Hitler’s followers were young and the most loyal, also the most violent, were even in their teens. And so they set their plan into motion, but there was still one thing that needed taking care off.  
Spencer knew that he would need the money his family held. While he had received his share of it to complete his project he would need more. Despite earning quite a lot form working with various other scientists and publishing books. They had become suspicious of him. Father- constantly trying to force a marriage on him. Even his mother. He had refused any attempts at arranging marriage. Using his work as an excuse. But deep down he wished he could tell them all the truth.  
That night he did. When they were all gathered for dinner. He had dressed in his finest clothes. He recalled the shocked expressions on their faces when he told them, when William walked in wearing a gas mask and handed one to Spencer. When all the door shut and all but the two of them dropped to the floor. He watched it all burn- knowing that in their last moments his family hated him. Father died before he could finish: you are not my…” And so all the fortune went to him- the last Spencer alive.  
He used the money to build a new home. A home for all the children. Their children. While they couldn’t truly have their own family, these children would be theirs. Their legacy to the world. a new superior breed of humans. And one they have found a way to live forever they could watch and maintain that legacy together.  
Bu that dream was never meant to come true. Wesker died soon after the project began. A heart attack- a sudden death. Spencer was grief stricken but determined more than ever to see their work through. He named it in his memory – Project Wesker. And all the children would be renamed in his name. He added one more detail to the candidates, they had to be of blond hair. So that way they would truly be his children.  
Many year later when he would look at him, he would remind him so much of William. The way he looked, as if he truly was the man’s son. But in his heart he had chosen another, one who reminded him of himself. If he was Williams’s son then she would be his daughter. Certain that if the two of them could have had children those two would have been it. 

NOTE: The author does not support Nazis or any fashisict views. They are only used for the purposes of the story because of similiraties with Spencer's ideal.


	5. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Project W/ Trinity soul verse

Lullaby 

It‘s a bright sunny day. The city is bustling, people going in many directions, streets full. Alex isn‘t really paying attention to them. Her mind focused on the interview. But something suddenly brings her out of her thoughts. She stops in her tracks, everybody around her are walking, the light changing from red to green. But she remains still. Frozen in place.  
The melody, quiet distant. Almost as if she was the only one who could hear it. She searches, turn around. Eyes scanning for where the sound is coming from. Chases it. Something she cannot explain. It takes over. In some narrow alley a woman, clearly homeless, is singing to her baby:  
Тили-тили-бом  
Закрой глаза скорее  
Кто-то ходит за окном  
И стучится в двери  
She doesn‘t understand it but it somehow sounds familiar. The melody brings tears to her eyes and she cannot explain it. She is certain she had heard it somewhere before. But she knows she hasn‘t. She runs, terrified now of what it is making her feel.  
It bother her all day. The melody stuck in her head. The feeling of something she cannot remember. And why does it terrify her so? She cannot focus on her work, biting the nail of her thumb. Albert looks at her silently from the sofa. It‘s only when she pulls away from him when he touches her in bed, that he finally asks:  
„What‘s wrong?“  
She can‘t look at him. It feels stupid. And she know she shouldn‘t let herself be bothered by something like this.  
„It‘s nothing.“ She says.  
He raises his eyebrow. Doesn‘t believe her.  
„Clearly it‘s not.“  
She sighs.  
„I don‘t know.“ She says. „ it‘s this song some woman was singing. And I know I’ve heard it before but I can‘t remember where.“  
He looks like he is about to laugh but she has her back to him.  
„It‘s in Russian. I‘ve never been to Russia. Except for...“  
She cannot finish that sentence. Except for when she was a baby, before she was taken by Spencer for his twisted experiments.  
He seems to catch on. Slowly put his arm around her, pull her close.  
„Forget it.“ He says. „It‘s just a song.“  
He places a kiss on her neck. She wants to give into the touch.  
„It‘s a lullaby“ she says.  
„It doesn‘t matter.“ He says firmly. „ Forget it.“  
He moves to kiss her lips and for a moment she does forget. 

Smoke swirls. The room appears, like it had so many times. A place between dreams and somewhere else. It takes the shape of Spencer’s old office in Raccoon city. Only this time the person who appears before her is not one she knows. It‘s an old woman, very old. Wearing long black dress, or perhaps a shirt. The black shawl that covers her head and shoulders and chest makes it hard to tell. She is hunched forward. Prayer beads wrapped around her hand. She looks at Alex. Alex doesn‘t know her.  
„Who are you?“ she asks.  
The woman looks at her, stern wrinkled face seems to light up with an expression of kindness. She speaks:  
„я прощаю тебя”

Alex doesn‘t understand. She shakes her head.  
„What? I don‘t understand. „ She tries to explain.  
The woman smiles at her, turns away, fades back into the mist.  
Alex wakes up in her bed. The feeling of dread and sorrow heavy on her chest. She wonders what that was about. She is certain she has never seen the old woman before. But then she can‘t recall every random person she has seen in passing. The only people she has seen in that room were people she knew in her life, and who were now dead.  
Albert is sound asleep next to her. It‘s still dark. But she cannot sleep. The words of that woman bother her. The strange melody. The heavy feeling of remorse in her chest. The song is indeed an old lullaby, one that is haunting and unsettling. Yet she listens to it in the dark living room of her apartment. Wondering when she could have heard it.  
Perhaps she has fallen asleep again, or just began to doze off. It’s an image that comes to mind. The voice of the singer changes into that of another. A different woman is singing and the song is not as haunting as the performance made it to be. It’s comforting somehow, gentle. The room has green wallpaper. Shadows from the lantern dance on the floor and ceiling. The rocking chair creeks. She lays in her bed, feels sleep creeping up on her. But suddenly jumps awake. She is not in that room. She is in her apartment. That room. Where was it? When was it? Whose voice was singing?  
Albert finds her on the sofa, wearing only her shirt. Staring at the laptop. She looks like she has been here for a long time. She doesn’t see him, doesn’t react. He looks over her shoulder at the screen. The unsettling song quietly playing in the background. The translator page open. One phrase on the screen “I forgive you.”  
“What are you forgiving me for?” She wonders.  
She feel him place a cover over her shoulders. Looks up at him. There is a look of concern.  
She doesn’t talk about it. The dreams. Part of her cannot accept it. But she can’t deny them either. Or the two others that reside in her. She could write it off as memories or her mind giving her closure before. But this time there was no denying it. It was real. She had to accept it.  
“My mother used to sing this to me. “ She says.  
He give her a strange look but nods.  
“I can’t remember her face.” She says. “I couldn’t remember anything at all before the orphanage. But this song, it made me remember.”  
He voice is just a whisper. She feels his hand on her shoulder. Tight grip, as if a warning to not go there. But he cannot stop her.  
“Alex” he call her name.  
“My name, it was originally Alexandra, did you know? I was Russian before they took me.”  
She seems lost in her mind, eyes not focused in the present. It’s not a state he has seen her in often.  
“Alex.” He repeats.  
She doesn’t hear him.  
“And this woman in my dream. She said she forgives me, but for what I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.”  
“That’s impossible.” He says.” The mind cannot invent faces. Every person, every face is of somebody you have seen, even if it was in passing.”  
She reacts now. Despair, uncertainty in her eyes.  
“Evidently your memories are coming back.” He says, voice calm, but deep down he is not.  
“But why now?” She wonders. “The transfer. Natalia was never subjected to the drugs that I was. They would have been brought to surface much sooner. “  
“Perhaps it needed a trigger.” He says.  
She nods slowly. He sits next to her.  
“The past doesn’t matter.” He says, assures,” you don’t need those memories. Remembering won’t change a thing. Those people are long dead. The time where you could have gone back is long past. “  
“I know”  
She realizes he is right. Maybe if it had happened when she was still alive as herself. Maybe in her teens. Maybe someone would have been alive, maybe she could have gone home. Things could have been different. But it has been almost 60 years since. She was somebody else now. And yet she still wants to know. The image of that room still in her mind.  
She had read the reports Spencer showed her. Parents that actively searched, might have gotten some leads or saw the child taken were put down. Killed and disposed of. How many little girls named Alexandra have gone missing in Russia in the 1960? Assuming her parents were even alive to report it. But there is another problem. In the 1960 it was still Soviet Russia, made up of several countries other the Russia itself. It covered most of Eastern Europe, up to Germany. All of them were occupied by force, forced to follow the law and culture of USSR and to speak Russian. All local cultures, languages were erased, religion banned. History rewritten as if these countries had always belonged to Russia. Many people who opposed the regime were exiled into the frozen wasteland of Siberia. People from All over USSR. So, really her country of origin could have been any of those. It seemed almost impossible to trace back where she had been born. With only a vague memory to go by. She didn’t even know her last name. That would have been helpful. But Spencer made sure that this information was erased so that even if they found out, going home was impossible.  
It seems pointless. She tries to put the idea out of her head. Act like everything is okay but deep down it still bothers her. The words of that woman. Being forgiven for something you don’t even know you did. She listens to that song again.  
“Stupid, how I’ve spent years on that island but never learned any Russian.”  
“You could take classes.” He says.  
The island. It hasn’t crossed her mind since. But now she wonders.  
“We should go there. I’ve always wanted to see what was left.” She says.  
Albert looks unamused by that idea.  
“I’ll take a week off. We could travel the seaside of Europe. “  
“It’s not a good idea.” He says.  
Afraid of being recognized. He is supposed to be dead. But he is not himself. His body perished in Africa.  
“You’re too paranoid.” She says. “I’ll go alone then.” 

There is another reason she want to visit the seaside. A memory. Something else surfaced. Listening to the song she sees that green room. The gentle voice singing to her. The creaking chair, cracking fire and the distant sound of waves. She did like that sound. While looking at the sea and how endless it was filled her feelings of loneliness and grief. The sound of waves felt relaxing somehow.  
They rend a boat and drive to the island. The greyish waters of the Baltic Sea are calm. It’s spring. Flowers bloom all over the. Grass overgrown, nature is reclaiming it. Old houses are falling apart. She had walked this path from the doc many times. All the people that used to live here – gone. Nobody to greet them. All dead by her design, her experiments or the monsters those experiments made. It is a wild, beautiful and tragic place.  
She looks at the house slightly further away from others. A tall dead tree next to it. She had walked past it many times. One branch is broken, hanging low. She could have sworn there used to be a swing there. If there were any children she did not recall them. She had seen every person on this island, at least in passing. Tired old faces. Except for the kids who ran around happy. She walks to the front of the house. It’s been abandoned for some time, probably before her death. She vaguely recall that an old woman used live here. She had seen her may be once and found her unpleasant to look at.  
The front door is open. An empty dog house sit’s outside. No one guards this home. Only darkness and the smell of moldy wood and dust greets her. Albert is still somewhere behind her. She walks from the warm spring sun into the darkness of the house. Straight to the end of the hallway. Not sure why. Her feet just carry her.  
Albert slowly steps inside. She had gone in but it’s been some time. he finds her standing there In the middle of the room. Back to the door, frozen.  
He surveys the room. The wallpaper is deep green. There is a child’s bed in the corner. Old toys. A rocking chair, an old dresser.  
“Alex.” He calls out to her.  
She doesn’t turn to look at him. Pale as a sheet.  
“This room. She used to sing for me in this room.” her voice shakes  
He reaches for her but stops. Jaw tight, fists clenched.  
“This was my room… my home... My mother...” tears begin to fall.  
She sinks to her knees. Body shaking.  
“She was here. She was alive... She was here when I...I…” she grabs her head with her hands and screams.  
He knees besides her. Holds her against his chest as violent sobs shaker her.  
“I told you it best to forget It.” he whispers into her hair.  
She remember now, where she had seen the woman from her dream. Right outside this house the first time she had arrived on this island. And then one more time in the line of prisoners being taken for experimentation. She was comply calm while others panicked and cried. Back then she didn’t care. Now she wished she could go back in time. Perhaps she had other family here, but now she will never know.  
Time slows to a crawl. She feels cold numb. The woman’s words echo in her head. “I forgive you.” but she cannot accept it. She cannot forgive it. She had been home this whole time and never knew. She had destroyed it. She only had herself to blame. And perhaps Spencer. It was he who told her of this place when she said she wanted to set up her own research facility. She wonders if he knew this whole time. Did he sent her back especially for this? Because he knew what she would do?  
She looks at him. Breathing calmer. Face red from tears.  
“I want you to hurt me.” She says.  
“I don’t think...”  
“Please.”  
He nods slowly. Carries her in his arms. Deep under the island, the mines that house her secret mansion. Some creatures still linger but he takes care of them. Never leaving his gun begin. The laboratories are also there. Most if it survived. Still working.  
She undresses slowly. White clothes dropping to the not so white floor.  
“Hurt me like I hurt them.” She says.” So would share in their fate.”  
He obey. Reluctant. Binds her arms and legs. Gags her. The floor is cold under her bare flesh. He makes her kneel. The water is cold when he pushes her head under. She can’t breathe but she needs air. She can’t scream. He pulls her out. Before she can get a breath he pushes her back in.  
The blades are still sharp. They cut into her skin, peal bits of it away. He has a steady hand. Face emotionless, like a butcher. Chains hold her hands above her head. Her feet dangling above the hole. Blood drips down slowly draining down. She doesn’t scream. Welcomes the pain. The only thing she can share with the mother she will never know.  
Her flesh heals. She wills it not to. Endures the drips of acidic liquid on her raw flesh. He is being gentle. Carefull. She wishes he wasn’t. He will hurt her, only because if he doesn’t then she will. And if she does, they both know it- she will not hurt, she will destroy. Even herself.  
At the end of the day. As morning dawns over the island he carries her to bed. Unconscious. Holds her in his arms. Even in her sleep she weeps. There no comfort he could give her, he knows. He wonders about his own family and if perhaps he too was guilty.  
He is certain he not yet asleep. He feels something off in the room. Somebody is singing. He feels Alex calm in his arms. It’s the same song she had been listening to. He raises his head and freezes in place. There is a woman in the room. He did not hear the door open. She is wearing black, blending into the darkness. She is singing, walking around the bed to the side where Alex is. She leans down, touches her head.  
“Спать. быть в мире с собой. я прощаю тебя. ты вернулся домой”

In her sleep Alex smiles. When he looks back up the woman is gone, like she was never there.


End file.
